Every kind, benevolent act of a Christian, full of love to God and man, is a cask of heavenly oil poured upon the troubled waters of life, and those who go down deep into human misery will find, by looking upward, as the oil of paradise swims upon the waves of woe, the beautiful light of heaven reflected upon their every movement to raise fallen humanity.
The love of God in the heart of man produces a smoothness upon the surface of his face and body that eases his way to heaven through the chilling billows of selfishness, deceit, and fraud.
A cruel retort from an ungrateful son opens a parent’s eyes to his sins and follies more than the advice of one hundred friends.
To mount the highest hill of God’s favour upon the alternate steps of prayer and good works, with faith as a handrail, is to see the indescribable beauties of heaven and the unsurpassed splendour of earth as no other mortal can; and by climbing higher still we can see more and more, till we find ourselves lost in love and wonder.
The transparent dewdrops of heaven to be seen, by the light of the bright morning sun, resting and twinkling into rainbow colours upon the flowers and blades of grass on the green, mossy carpet, are the lively, sweet, innocent little children whom God sends to cheer and beautify our path for awhile before He calls them to heaven by the absorbing rays of Divine love.
To a good man dark moments are the harbingers of bright days, and to a bad man light moments of excitement are the precursors of long, dark days of sorrow.
Love is the greatest moral force in the world. With the birth of a child it has a beginning, and it is the right hand companion of the soul; and with the death of the body it is transferred with its redeemed chief to paradise, to be the singing, joyful companion of the soul through endless ages and never-ending delights and pleasures.
Divine love is the celestial life of heaven dwelling in man’s breast, purifying his heart, enlivening his soul, transforming his affection to such an extent that he can sing in the midst of a burning, sandy, waterless, parching desert, “Oh! that will be joyful.” It transforms the black demon face of a gipsy, or a child of hell, into the lovable, smiling face of a child of God. Its possessor can jump ditches, bound over fences, and scale battlements as easily as if they were level green, mossy carpets. It makes life happy, and opens heaven to our view.
After I had passed through this ordeal, I tried pacing the room with no better results. Notwithstanding these things, I felt as the Rev. Richard Wilton felt when he penned the following lines for Hand and Heart, June, 1880:
“Sufferings are gifts, accept for my sake,
And from earth’s sighs heaven’s music shall wake.”